


Bakura Likes Cuddles (Inspired by Kamy)

by TouzokuouBakura



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Comfort, Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, comfort people - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9074500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TouzokuouBakura/pseuds/TouzokuouBakura
Summary: People often forget even tough guys need hugs.





	

Bakura often felt lonely, and abandoned, even though his life was full of people and companionship now. Malik and Ryou and Mariku tried their best to help him, but despite his outward strength he was still scarred on the inside and outside.

Being a very small man in comparison to others, he tended to puff up when angry like a cobra and wear clothes that were bigger than his body shape to increase his percieved area.

His pajamas even were solid red and huge on him. People constantly told him he was swimming in his clothing, but as he was doing it for a reason, he ignored them and laughed.

“It’s comfortable,” he said, always.

This was partially true because he was still constantly on edge and tense. Tension tended to be a common thing with him, and cause musculoskeletal ache so he wore nice supportive gym shoes, hoodies, soft beanies over his silver-white hair and soft pj pants all the time. He had a thing for Tshirts that said stuff, as he was a very politically interested man due to his history with the upper class of Egypt and street art was out of his price range of risk so he would advertise political and subersive quotes and images on soft cotton Tshirts and hats.

His issues never magically disappeared once he got his body back and had companionship. He still had the same fears of loss and being happy he always had. It just lessened cause for once he was supported, so he started healing, even though he was constantly paranoid about losing people and tragic things happening as soon as he was happy.

He was happy. But he was also a hothead, and a grouch around holidays, and a rebel yell personified.

In fact, his outward defense mechanisms were like spiky armor, even though he dressed soft, it was carefully calculated to be “street sensitive” and “street fashion” so he would be percieved how he wanted to be.

He was a thief. He was in essentiality a trained from birth thief. He knew the ins and outs of impression management and he never for a second didn’t dress without impression management in mind. He always knew people only went on appearance and that they never thought behind the tips of the icebergs, so he calculated and thought a lot into what he said, his body language and his words. He was a trained thief. Appearances always mattered, that’s what he knew.

One day Marik was crying in his room. It was Dec 23 and Marik’s birthday. Marik hated his birthday, he cried every year. He missed his mother, he would avoid people seeing his back, he kept all the lights on.  
‘Poor baby,’ Bakura thought. ‘We’re so alike. We miss our mothers. I’d say we still have those baby issues, those baby needs. Well, we connect so I am going to try to help.’

Bakura snuck into Marik’s room and climbed up on the bed with him, wrapping him in his soft large red hoodie arms, snuggling Marik into the fabric and nuzzling his hair into Marik’s hair.

Marik didn’t allow anyone to touch him in these moods except Bakura, but Marik still looked scared at the embrace and wriggled a bit. This wasn’t usual for Bakura. Bakura was the tough guy, the street thief, the street urchin, the orphan, the scrapper, the fighter and the scavenger.

“What are you doing?” Marik sniffed, confused. “I don’t care. You’re soft. Hold me closer.”

Bakura liked cuddles and people often forgot that a lonely starved for affection and peace person would solicit cuddles from his comfort people.

Bakura had latched on to Ryou and the Maliks as comfort people due to his undiagnosed PTSD and they responded. He held Marik softly, cuddling, kissing him on the soft blonde hair, wiping Marik’s tears until they stopped and Marik could breathe.

Marik eventually signalled he didn’t need help anymore and let go.

But Marik was confused. “Why----”

“I like cuddles, and I like you,” was all Bakura said, and Marik giggled and buried his face in Bakura’s soft clothed chest.

“That’s okay,” Marik giggled. “You’re soft and I like you too.”


End file.
